Boredom Counselling
by Brahtson
Summary: Dr Ghost counsels Roach on his sexual preference and fondness of having someone shag him. Dr MacTavish files a complaint against his colleague for something else.
1. Out of the closet, into a gay bar?

"I spy with my eye, something that begins with B," Ghost says as he takes a seat beside Roach on the couch in the lounge room and gazes emptily into space.

"Bookshelf," the Sergeant answers monotonously.

"Yeah," Ghost says, dull and uninterested.

"I spy with my eye, something that begins with T."

"Table."

"Yep," Roach says. "Bugger."

Ghost gives him a playful smile. "Gay?"

"What?" Roach asks.

"Anal sex?" Ghost asks again.

Roach's ears and cheeks turns seven different kinds of crimson.

"You said bugger," Ghost points out, apparently teasing him.

"That doesn't mean anything!" the Sergeant protests.

His superior laughs, whistles and says, "I need a fag."

Meat, who all along has been sitting at the opposite end of the room, gets up, slams his magazine down on the low table and points an accusing finger at his two colleagues. "I thought you pricks were real men!" he says.

At this Roach tries to become a chameleon by blending in with the couch, while Ghost takes a second to be stunned before bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, smacking his knees, the couch itself and Roach on the shoulder.

"No, Meat, it's," Ghost wheezes between his laughing spasms, "it's a Brit slang! Bugger means taking it up the arse, fag means a cigarette!"

Awkward silence follows. Now it's Meat's turn to have his face burn up.

"Whatever, talk about a sheep fucker!" he retorts.

Unfortunately for Meat, things are about to get worse. At the same precise second that sentence tumbled out of his mouth, their Captain entered the room. Meat realises his mistake and gawks at him. Ghost relapses into his wheezing, coughing laughter while Roach now wishes, more than ever, that he could disappear or turn into a pretty butterfly and fucking _fly_ out of the room of death.

* * *

Author's Note; Yeah, if you didn't already know about British slang and stereotypes...now's a good time. Question to everyone – should I try to write more bromantic stories? Yay or nay or trololo?

Also, misleading description, eh? You must've expected something else. Oh, you.


	2. Ghost has a really wierd fetish

WARNING: Expect the unexpected (+Spanish Inquisition). And puns. Lots of puns.

* * *

**_One week before Roach's admittance of his gayness.._**

The first time he laid eyes on her, his heart flew towards the clouds and he felt a tingling in his bones. Ghost had found her lurking around the armoury, sitting on a crate, looking neglected. He reached out to her – she was absolutely cold to the touch. He questioned her existence. She was too good to be true.

Ghost took her to his barracks, and in the shower, stripped her down. He washed and scrubbed her with utmost care, always reminding himself to be gentle with her. Poor thing, he thought. She looked like she could break if treated roughly. He suspected she's been abused by her previous partners. But after he toweled her dry and helped her get herself together, she looked fresh and revitalised. He smiled to himself for a job well done.

The Lieutenant pitied her, and against standing task force rules, took her to the outskirts of the base, where he had his way with her. It was the first time he used her, and he was amazed at how well she performed. He had gone with her type before, but never has it felt that good. She fit right in his arms' embrace. Her hot body against his chest – it was maddening.

Since she naturally couldn't speak, he named her Bonnie. Pretty soon the bond between them turned into something more than love. He became obsessed with her.

He would take her with him to the mess hall for meals, to the office he shared with his Captain when he went over some paperwork and even to bed where he would hug her snug in his sleep. At the very least, he was decent enough to not turn her on at night. It would simply be disrespectful to the others trying to catch some sleep.

But the Lieutenant's colleagues thought little of his courtesy, and less of his newfound love. They didn't like her at all. For Ghost, this meant that his ties of friendship with the 141 members were put to the test. One particular test became too much.

MacTavish sits at his desk, staring at his second in command. He set his paperwork down and sighs heavily.

"Just," MacTavish starts. "Just stop it, Ghost. It's a damn gun."

"Bonnie is a wonderful lass," Ghost retorts. He looks over to Bonnie, sitting on top of his table.

"I know it's a well-made sniper rifle, but it looks aged and broken as it is," MacTavish says. "Let it go, we don't use Tac-50s here. Plus I've received complaints from the men and Shepherd himself about you carrying that thing all over the place."

"I'll have nothing if I send her off for scraps," Ghost bitterly says.

MacTavish sighs. "Then I guess we won't be drinking together on Christmas."

Ghost perks up. "You planned to drink on Christmas? With me?"

"Aye."

"Are you inviting Roach?"

"Absolutely."

Ghost thinks about it long and hard. "Alright, I'll scrap the gun."


End file.
